


To Want

by letbygones



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Codependency, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, shame!! so much shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letbygones/pseuds/letbygones
Summary: Galo was finding his spark again.Lio was ready to let it burn him.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 6
Kudos: 142





	To Want

Galo Thymos was depressed.

"You sure you want to sit there?" he asked, wiping grease-slicked hands all over the butt of his work pants.

Lio ignored him and zeroed in on the stain. His long, long eyelashes tracked Galo's ass as he puttered across the length of the station garage. Galo must've felt the heat of judgment upon him, because he turned around— "Can you _not?"_ — and threw a balled up oil rag at Lio's face.

Galo Thymos was depressed, and in an unfortunately good mood.

"Foul play," Lio grunted, throwing the rag aside. "Yes, I want to sit here. What's wrong with the floor?"

"That floor, specifically. You want a list?" Twenty or so feet separated them from a row of not-so-neatly parked motorcycles. Galo pitched his big body downward to scoot a toolbox out from under a workbench. 

It was nice to see him up and moving again. After all they'd been through, it made sense— but it'd taken longer than Lio expected. A guy like Galo should've bounced back in a week or two. Instead, he'd spent too many hours in bed, too many days awake; every smile was timed and every meal strategically pecked at. It frustrated Lio. It was a selfish feeling, and he hated himself for it, but he wanted to help. 

He just wasn't sure how to be there for someone who wasn't there at all.

But, on good days, helping wasn't impossible. On good days they watched movies and shared stale croissants. They'd taught each other new things, like how to play Craps, or how to use ebay. On bad days, they'd learned things too, like how to report to Lio's parole officer— but bad things weren't so hard to do together. 

Today was a good day. It was raining, and they had errands to do. Galo was finding his spark again.

Lio was ready to let it burn him.

"For one," Galo started, back on the floor nonsense. He wielded a wrench for emphasis. "People pee on the floor. For two-"

"Pardon?"

"People pee on the floor! Not me! People!" Galo scrunched up his face, like, _duh??_ — "Anyway. For TWO. It's covered in gasoline. It probably smells pretty bad."

Lio stared, hot and sharp, before sputtering out a laugh. "You're serious. You're being serious right now?"

 **The World's Greatest HERO** (custom thermos, courtesy of Aina) took a sip of coffee and nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. Hundred percent. You know how much diesel the mobile units eat up? I used to do my reps on the floor until I kicked a big jug thing over. Spillage EVERYWHERE, total mess, my first week here too—"

"Mmm, how embarrassing," Lio chuckled, stretching out his legs. "Unfortunately, it seems our opinions differ. I like the smell of gas."

Galo shot him another look, the kind friends give to friends when they're Wrong. Lio wholly treasured these looks.

"You're just fucking with me," Galo said.

"I'm not," Lio smiled, pushing his hands down along the length of his thighs until he was hunched forward in a floor stretch. "I like racing. I like winning even more. Gas reminds me of winning." He gave Galo a wink. 

The wrench Galo'd been waving around clattered against the concrete. "Woah, watch out!" he shouted sarcastically. He turned his back to Lio and popped into a Fireman's Squat (as he'd dubbed them), with his dirty oil-stained ass front-and-center and a middle finger framed beneath it.

"Don't be a sore loser. You'll beat me next time, won't you?" Lio pouted.

"No— Yes! Jeez! This is the thanks I get for sneaking you company property?"

On great days— rare, dangerous days, when they both needed to know that death was still a possibility at all— they'd take the bikes out to the far side of town, as far as Lio was allowed to go, by the railyard and old warehouses. Lio wasn't supposed to be driving, but Lio wasn't supposed to be doing a lot of things.

"I'm grateful," Lio told him, honest this time. He righted himself in order to grab at his nearby mug of tea. There was a quietness as he drank, and over the rim, he noticed Galo staring at him. 

His friend broke into a smile.

Something inside Lio rang proud for making Galo happy, even for just a moment. 

And then seconds later, like clockwork, the feeling that he'd done something wrong came roaring back. What _was_ it? A voice in his head? It was his voice, he guessed, though it was new and unfamiliar. It scolded him for feeling proud at all.

Before he could punish himself too much, though, Galo crossed the room and knelt down between the open V of Lio's legs. His expression was soft and waiting. Lio felt himself reflexively seize up; he knew his friend had no concept of personal space, but Lio wasn't prepared.

"... Yes? What is it?"

"Do you remember," Galo sighed, taking Lio's mug into his own hands, "the first time I saw you?" A blip of a second— their fingers brushed together— and then Galo set the cup down on the floor beside them.

Lio pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, just so his hands had something new to do.

"Depends," he said cautiously. "Is this a good conversation or a bad one? My memory is selective."

Galo hung his head and puffed out a laugh. "Not bad! I don't think! I just. Like. You had this big cool bike, and you did some stupid donuts, and I think you thought you were hot shit."

"I was," Lio agreed. "What about it?"

"I—" Galo paused, uncharacteristically thinking before speaking. "Do you want that again?"

Galo Thymos had pretty eyes and zero tact. Both of these things bore into Lio, waiting for an answer.

"It'd be nice to have mobility, I guess."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then say what you mean," Lio bit back, a little harder than intended. He quickly brushed the top of his hand along Galo's forearm as a gesture of apology.

"You know what I mean. You're smart. A lot smarter than me," Galo scolded, light and easy. "Do you miss how things were? Even though things were way worse off before. I mean like. When life was normal. Do you miss your bike and doing things you liked to do? You always look so unhappy now, and I thought maybe—"

"Maybe what?" Lio grunted. _Unhappy?_ Galo was the unhappy one! Lio wanted to laugh, but he could never be so rude to the man who'd saved his life. "You said this was a good conversation."

"I'm getting there!" Galo insisted. "Jeez! I want to buy you a motorcycle, okay? To make up for all the things you've done for us— hell, for me? I know you can't leave the county yet, but after this year's up— well, I figured you might want one of your own, or something—"

Instinctively, instantaneously, Lio's chest hitched, his lungs wanting to breathe out an honesty he didn't like— _I don't want anything_ — except it wasn't honest now, and maybe it never was. He blinked.

"No, Galo."

"Why not? I have a ton of savings, it's not like I spend it on anything important."

"Because I said no," Lio repeated, and his ears were hot. 

"Okay, but, like, something else then? Less commitment. A skateboard? I don't know?"

Lio stood so quickly that he almost knocked Galo backwards onto the oh-so-offending garage floor. He leaned back over to pick up his mug of tea. His ankle monitor clacked against the porcelain. He was grateful. He'd been tried on an international level. Probation was the best-case scenario for someone like him— he was still here for his people, his friends, and for Galo, and he was _grateful_ , and he was _happy_ , and he was _never_ going to ask for anything else ever again in his entire life.

Galo looked up at him in genuine confusion. "Lio?"

"Stop, _please_ ," Lio groaned. "Don't buy me anything. I mean it."

Galo nodded quizically, like he knew, but he didn't know. He couldn't know. 

He looked concerned.

 _It's your fault_ , the voice said. _He was happy just a moment ago, and you took that from him._

"Um. Okay, fine. Hey—" Galo reached out, lacing their hands together. He'd been doing this lately. Whenever he needed Lio's eyes to meet his, he'd reach out and ask for it, like it was the easiest thing in the world to ask for. 

Lio squeezed his hand. Another makeshift apology. _Tell Galo you're sorry._

"Lio. Hey. I'm sorry."

 _No!_ Damage control, Fotia!

He turned to leave, to calm himself down. He didn't know where wanted to go, or where he was _allowed_ to go. He needed to step out before— 

before he—

"Lio."

Lio sniffed in a betrayal of snot and hot air. Galo's hand was slow to reach him, but it was warm and heavy on his shoulder. Lio couldn't catch the sob as it left his throat.

"Lio. I'm sorry. It's okay."

Tears broke his vision. "No." His face was burning. "Don't— don't you dare be sorry. I'm don't know why I'm crying." Lio forfeited his ego and turned back around. He sniffed between sharp inhalations, trying to catch his breath, but every time he tasted tears, he laughed. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said. Another chuckle. More snot.

Galo's face was every face Lio had ever let down. Galo's reassuring voice was everyone who'd ever tried to sugarcoat unfortunate truths to him.

Lio wasn't infalliable. He knew this, logically. But he was powerless, and he was guilty.

He sobbed again, feeling foolish to be processing these kinds of emotions in front of Galo, let alone doing it in a cat sweater on the _piss floor_ of Burning Rescue's auto dock.

Galo's arms around him, though. That wasn't anything but Galo. He let himself breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and sweat, keenly aware of the small soothing circles being kneaded into his shoulderblades. His face tucked perfectly into the crook of Galo's neck, skin to skin, where he found himself ever so lightly brushing _sorrys_ with his mouth against his jugular.

"Sometimes, when I'm sad, I want to hit stuff. Even when I'm not mad, or smad. I don't think my body knows the difference," Galo finally said, and Lio could feel his voice like a cello against his lips. "I think it's okay to not know what you're feeling or why you're feeling it. Yeah?"

Lio deadpanned back a muffled "yeah."

"And... I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'll lay off next time, I swear."

The last of Lio's nasal drip found its way onto Galo's shirt. He lifted his head for air. "It's fine. I didn't mean to upset you either."

Galo ducked back to get a better look at his not-quite-boyfriend. His face searched for something in Lio's. "You didn't upset me. 'Sides, it wouldn't be a big deal even if you did?"

"Wouldn't it?" Lio snorted, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "I think I've had my fair share of hurting people, okay? Did you hear the letters they read to me at the trial? Fifty-one of them? From surviving family members of people who'd—" he paused to laugh out his tears again, something nervous and entirely wrong— "People caught in Mad Burnish raids. The ones who didn't make it out."

Galo opened his mouth to say something, but he let it hang open, as though he was still downloading his next thought.

"That's... not the same thing as making me upset," Galo assured him. "Is that what this is about? You don't want to hurt people?"

"I don't want to _take_ from people," Lio grunted, sobering up enough to step away from his cocoon of warmth. "I don't think it's very fair, after all that. Do you?"

Galo looked at him long and hard, as though challenging him to a fight. Lio wasn't used to that sort of look yet, at least not in this context. This wasn't a fight. Galo wasn't angry with him.

He had to repeat that in his mind, over and over again. Galo wasn't angry with him.

"I think punishing yourself for other people's generosity is stupid," Galo said, and _oh my god, Galo was angry—_

But his hands fell to encapsulate Lio's, and he rubbed them together to create friction. "I think you need to take care of yourself, and let other people take care of you too. People love you, yeah?"

Lio shook his head. "No. Yes. I guess."

Galo wasn't angry with him.

"I love you too, Lio Fotia. Don't forget that."

Outside the massive bay doors of the garage, a passing ambulance blared an alarm that faded away into the gray afternoon. It reminded Lio of the first time Galo blurted out an "I love you"— hours after Lio'd been granted amnesty, there'd been riots. The tv screen was cruel, so they'd turned it off, and pretended not to hear the crowds outside of Burning Rescue HQ. Lio'd gotten drunk. Galo poured his heart out.

Lio had told him _no, not now._

But now, months later, Galo's breath was warm on his forehead. Galo's eyes were quiet, in a way that Lio felt was rare and wrong. _Only for him. Only for Lio_. He'd never seen Galo look at anyone this way, at least not on a regular basis. He felt a sudden wave of possessive anger— how could _anyone_ know Galo, in the way that he knew Galo? How could _Kray Foresight_ have known this vulnerability, and broken it—

Something in Lio's legs pushed him up, taller, and he leaned into Galo's mouth, kissing him for the first time.

At first, it was brief. Lio pressed against Galo's lips for only a moment before he stopped— froze up, mirroring Galo, who hadn't moved at all— 

And then he tasted lemonade and skin and _oh_ , Galo's tongue was cold, but he wrapped his hands around the back of his neck and felt warmth. Galo inhaled sharply and deeply and gathered Lio up into his arms, kissing back, nipping Lio's bottom lip, chasing after Lio's mouth when it'd retreated to breathe—

"Galo."

The larger man's eyes fluttered open. "Mmm?"

"I lied. I'm sorry. I want the motorcycle."

For a moment, Galo's face glassed over, and Lio realized he'd already forgotten about it.

"Oh! Yeah. That's- yeah, totally," he said, still catching his breath. 

"I want you to be happy. I want to be happy with you. And," he said, letting his hand slide down to Galo's collarbone, "I'd be a hypocrite if I kept you from trying to help me."

"Glad someone said it," Galo laughed sheepishly. "But hey! I want to be happy with you too! I felt super bad after— well, the last time I tried telling you this stuff. I know it was inappropriate timing and all," he snorted. "I just... look, I'm kind of scared to want something again. After finding out everything I'd ever wanted was just part of Kray's sick plan. You know?"

 _On the most average of days,_ Lio thought, _I know too well._

From four inches off the ground, Lio's ankle monitor beeped. He sighed and extracted himself from Galo's safe grip. "I gotta go charge. Finish up and meet me by the outlet?"

Galo gave him an understanding smile. He looked back at the toolbox, considered the tasks he was supposed to complete, and snapped the lid shut. "Nah, this can wait. I'll grab my laptop and we can check out some dealerships."

Looking at Galo was like looking at halogen high-beams. Lio found himself having to look away, sometimes. And if they had any future together at all, he'd have to learn to let Galo shine, with or without his help.

Maybe one day, Lio'd learn to shine again too.

**Author's Note:**

> this is very unedited, very heavyhanded, and very automatic writing. Im not used to making words happen so if there are any glaring errors please let me know!


End file.
